


October 26, 2017

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Series: Fool Me Once [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, Character Death, M/M, The things we don't say, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: On October 26th 2017, James Bond walked back into MI6 to oversee the development of the Double O programme and its closer alignment with Q Branch operations.And their dance resumed.





	1. Chapter 1

The hands on Bond’s watch read 2:20 am.  He stood in the hallway listening for any signs of life but the flat was still and quiet.  Not silent. The hum of Q’s personal servers was always present but Bond found he had to concentrate to hear it.   
  
He had expected Q to still be up working.  Now what to do? Go into the bedroom and wake him?  Find his hidden stash of Scotch and doze on the sofa until Q woke for work?   
  
A light thump and the clicking of claws on wood made Bond grin.  Still got the cats then. The beast sat down in the doorway to Q’s bedroom and regarded the intruder with haughty interest.    
  
“Asleep is he?”     
  
Decision made Bond moved quietly to the bedroom, but the bed was empty, quilt smooth and undisturbed except for the cat shaped dent near the pillow.  Another feline raised its head and stared blearily but soon tucked it’s nose back under its paws and settled back to sleep.

No Q.  Obviously still at 6 then which also meant he still might return in the earlier morning hours.  So the option of finding Q’s hidden stash and making himself at home seemed like a good plan. 

Bond headed towards the kitchen and lounge of Q’s flat. Within moments the click of claws on wood flooring followed him.  Human in the flat. Time for human to feed us. Loyalty was obviously not a high priority to Q’s cats when it came to the possibility of food. And of course Bond obliged them with a treat before he began rummaging for Q’s liquor stash. 

It only took Bond a few moments to find Q’s cache of bourbon, scotch and a very expensive bottle of cognac which was something new, not normally kept by the Quartermaster.  Had Q acquired a new taste Bond wondered because he most certainly didn’t have to to cook with. 

Bond poured himself a glass of scotch and headed to the lounge to make himself at home until Q returned.  

Lounging in Q’s armchair, which had been repositioned close to the window, Bond scanned the room taking in every detail.  Some things that had lived in Q’s lounge were noticeably absent - no stack of computer equipment crammed into an inadequate desk.  No abandoned parka and shoes cluttering the room.   
  
Instead there were new additions.  An expensive stereo on a low wooden unit that appeared to house a considerable vinyl collection.  A soft cosy throw draped over the back of the sofa. And a couple of houseplants that actually looked to be thriving.   
  
Q may embrace hipster chic but wandering around with a few records tucked under his arm didn’t seem like the Q Bond remembered. If he listened to music at all it was downloaded onto an MP3 player or his mobile.  Curious, Bond flipped through the albums. Pink Floyd, The Doors, Bowie... Classics. And, they seemed to be mostly original pressings. Something a collector would cherish. Not at all like the Q of old.   
  
It was then the photograph caught Bond’s eye, placed discreetly on a side table but with enough visibility to tell Bond it was significant.  He picked it up and took a large gulp of Scotch. “Who the hell are you?” He murmured to the man in the picture holding Bond’s Quartermaster.  “And you really need to step away from him now.”

Bond searched the flat more thoroughly now.  He would say it was say that it was his natural need to know all the intel that pushed him but in truth it was jealousy at seeing the photo someone else in his Quartermaster’s personal space.  And obviously enjoying being there way too much for Bond’s comfort. 

Heading back to the kitchen to refill his scotch, it was then that the coffee maker on the counter caught his eye and he started pulling more cupboards doors open.   It was becoming more and more obvious that someone else had invaded Q’s flat. There was a sudden thud of an also curious furry feline body, on the counter next to him,head bumping against his arm looking for a pet. “Who the fuck is this?” Bond huffed as if he was going to get an answer.  

Bond turned abruptly back towards the bedroom and stalked down the darkened hallway.  In the ensuite, there was toiletries that were not Q’s. Bond knew from his past uninvited snooping in the Quartermaster’s flat.  Cologne that wasn’t Q’s. 

In the wardrobe, clothing, shoes that weren’t Q’s. 

Wrong size. 

Too stylish for Q.  

Suits.. bespoke.  

Bond’s eyes searched the bedroom for other signs. He slowly circled the bed which he now recognized as not the one the had previously occupied the bedroom.  This one was larger, plush, expensive. On a bedside table, the side he knew Q chose to sleep on normally, had what were Q’s things. Kindle. Chargers. Spare glasses. Half consumed cold cup of tea.  Paracetamol. 

However, it was the other side that drew Bond’s more intense inspection.  Paperback book… written in French. Glasses that were not Q’s. Another phone charger.  And a spot… a gap between the mattress and foundation. A hidden holster. One that contain a service weapon, a standard Q Branch issue weapon for an agent as a backup sidearm. 

Another agent was living with his Quartermaster.  

Cold fury began seething in the pit of his stomach.  He filled his glass a third time and gulped it half of it down but the searing liquid did nothing to temper his anger.  How could Q be involved with someone? Not just someone, another agent. Bond had told himself repeatedly that Q’s resistance to his charm was down to professionalism, not wanting to complicate his already chaotic life with an equally chaotic partner.  But here he was sharing his personal space with exactly that.   
  
Bond picked up the photograph again and studied the man closely.  Not someone he recognised, so not promoted from within. Similar in age to himself... or, no, probably younger but prematurely greying.  He dropped the frame onto the kitchen counter beside the bottle and didn’t even wince when the glass in the frame cracked.   
  
“I hate you already.  Don’t expect a handshake.  And watch your back.”   
  
He couldn’t stay here now.  It didn’t feel like Q’s space anymore, it was contaminated, sullied.  He left the bottle, glass and picture in the kitchen, all deliberately out of place and exited the way he had come.   
  
There were better places to welcome himself home.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Bond strode through security into the depths of MI6.  It had been two years since he had set foot inside these walls.   Faces may have come and gone, but the agency itself always had a certain feel.     
  
Today was to start with an early morning meeting with Mallory starting his new role back in the service that had been his ‘home’ for so many years.  It seemed that no matter how hard he tried or what turns his life took, he always ended up wandering back here, into the service to Queen and Country.    
  
In his time gone, the agency had reorganized after the Spectre debacle, progressively attempting to expand its service.  Thus, the reason Bond was there. It had become more and more evident that even though at one point it was believed that the double oh programme was dead, what it truly needed was expansion. And, who better to take on that task and champion it, but the only living double oh agent to reach retirement age.  A wealth of experience that could not be ignored.  Bond was up for the challenge.  MI6 needed his experience.

And, he needed MI6.  A realization that was hard come by but one that had been always taken prominent in the back of his mind since that night in the bridge.  Poking at him.

One that he discovered he could not ignore any longer.    
  
This was where he belonged.    
  
Bond entered the lifts, heading upwards to admin offices of the agency.  “Moneypenny,” he greeted smoothly, “looking stunning as ever.”  
  
Moneypenny glared at him, rose from her seat, and rounding the desk to stand in front of him with her arms folded.  “Why the hell did you come back? You have no place here anymore.”  
  
“On the contrary, Miss Moneypenny. M has created a position specifically for me. I would say I was very much wanted around here.”  
  
“Not everyone will be happy to see you return.  Don’t expect to be welcomed with open arms.”  
  
Bond recalled the photograph and his mood immediately soured but he smirked and tried to swallow his jealousy.  “So frosty, Moneypenny. I hope Q will be more friendly.”  
  
“Stay away from Q, Bond.  The last thing he wants or needs is your games.”  The intercom from M’s office buzzed. “Go in. Conduct your business quickly, whatever it is, and please leave.”

Later Mallory and Bond stood at his open office door shaking hands.  “I’m glad we could come to an agreement Bond. The agency still needs your expertise, now more than ever.”  
  
“Thank you, Sir.  I’m glad to be back.”  Moneypenny listened in silence trying to appear engrossed in whatever she was typing on her laptop.    
  
“I’ll have Ms. Moneypenny arrange a meeting of the department heads you will be interacting with for first thing tomorrow morning so we are all on the same page to start things off right.” Mallory continued as he shook Bond’s hand.  “For now let’s take a walk and have a chat with Tanner. Get the ball rolling.”  
  
As they headed to the door together, Bond stopped at Moneypenny’s desk.  “It’s good to see you again, Eve. I’m sure we will once again work well together.”  
  
“Welcome home Bond.” Moneypenny offered her best fake smile plastered on her face.  “Don’t shite on us again.” She added under her breath as Bond and Mallory headed out the door.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Q arrived back in his department only 4 hours after having left for home in the early hours.  His face was thunderous as he gripped a takeaway coffee like a weapon, holding it in front of him as a threat to anyone who approached.  The day shift wasn’t due in for another hour, which was just as well. He needed time to compose himself.  
  
His flat had been invaded.  It had taken months for it to feel like home again after Hendricks’ death, longer still for it to become his sanctuary from the world.  And now… it had been violated.   
  
By the very bastard who had hurt him so badly, it had been over a year before he could trust enough to love.  Q has no doubt that Bond had played his feelings, and by his actions tonight it seemed he was back to his old tricks.   
  
He knew it had been Bond.  

No one else would drink his Scotch like he owned the bloody place.  No one else would poke through his things careful not to disturb anything too obvious.  

And no one else would be petty enough to announce his visit by smashing a treasured object.  
  
That hurt.  

More than anything else, past or present that Bond had done, the malice that he held towards Q’s happiness had been like a knife to his heart.  Bond was a bastard but Q had always considered him mostly decent.  
  
He didn’t know why Bond was back in London and he didn’t care as long as he wasn’t staying.

The day shift had slowly begun to meander in just as Q thought maybe... possibly… he had pulled his anger back to a manageable state to survive the day whilst he plotted a way to kill Bond the first time he saw hi.  Since it was very apparent he had decided to bless London with his presence once more.   
  
That was until the outer doors of Q Branch opened and in entered M with the very said James Bond in tow.  Q’s anger spiked a new level of TNT on the Nuclear Explosion Weapons yield.   
  
“Q.  Just who I was looking for,” Mallory began way too cheery for the time of day, but he was pleased with the solution to his biggest problem facing him at the moment.  “Bond has decided to join us again heading up the restructuring of the double oh and agent programs.”   
  
Q straighten and steeled himself at the words ‘join us again’  burying his anger in truly spy worthy blank face skill.   
  
“I would like you and Tanner to set up a meeting for tomorrow morning with all the agents on home soil from field agents on up.  Bond is going to oversee the restructuring of this area.” Q only half listened to what Mallory was prattling on about but agreed to whatever he was asked to do.   
  
“You, Tanner and Bond will be working closely together.”   
  
“Oh goodie.” Q muttered under his breath.     
  
“I am anxious to meet with all the agents,” Bond began. “Any one new I should know about Quartermaster?”   
  
“No one significant Bond.   Your previous number has yet to be filled again.”     
  
“Oh surely there are a few up and coming A Level agents that show promise or that have caught your eye, Quartermaster?  Skill wise? Returning their equipment?” Bond childishly poked at him. “I thought I heard something about an agent in your life?”   
  
And that was the final poke that sent Q over the edge.

“Was Bond.  The key word is ‘was’.  He died in the field in service to Queen and Country.  Something you never quite managed”. By now Q was seething, knowing Bond had been in his flat and had violated his privacy.      
  
Q took a step forward turning to Mallory, barely containing his anger.   But reigning it all in, the cold calculating Quartermaster facade quickly fell back into place.

And when he finally spoke his words were pointed but emotionless, “I will work with him because you are ordering me.  I will perform my duties as Quartermaster to the utmost. However, if this bastard breaks into my flat again, I will kill him.  Agent or not.” The silence in Q Branch took on a life of its own, became tangible, as Q turned on his heels, headed towards his office, locking the door behind him.   
  
“Well that didn’t go as planned,” Tanner piped up from behind them.

Mallory frowned at Bond.  “I trust this working relationship is not going to be a problem.  I need this program up and running as soon as possible.”  
  
“I’ll ensure it’s not.” Bond said with confidence.  “No reason for it to be.” He smiled at his superior, mind already on what Q had revealed.     
  
Mallory nodded briskly and refused to consider the wisdom of bringing this troublesome man back into the fold.  “I will just add that 007 - that is to say, the last 007 - died honourably in service to Queen and Country. Tragically, the Quartermaster and many of his staff, witnessed it.  As you can imagine that was a distressing event and I’m sure Q would not appreciate it being raked over again. Carry on.” Leaving Bond with Tanner he headed back to his office.   
  
So the agent had taken his old number.  How much had that influenced Q’s attraction to the man?  Another way to hold on to him after he’d left with Madeline?     
  
“I believe Mallory said something about an office?”  Bond cast one last look at Q’s closed door and indicated Tanner should lead the way.   
  
“Don’t get too excited, it’s more of a broom closet than an office but it’s your own.  I believe someone even found you a coffee mug.”   
  
As they crossed the lobby Bond paused by the wall of names of the fallen.  The last name on there was Lance Hendricks. A name for the face. Tanner, standing quietly beside him said, “He was a good man, Bond.  He and Q were very close and his death hit him hard. Try to keep your dealings with him professional and we’ll have no problems.”   
  
“Message received Tanner.  But really, Q thrives on problems,” Bond smirked.  “And with no current 007, I’m sure he’s overdue a few.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Bond sat in silence, glass in hand, in his sparse flat that he had been given by MI6 in vetted housing.   It had the bare necessities of furnishing and he had yet to retrieve any of his things out of his various storage locations. 

  
The day had been spent going through the various files of the current roster of agents at all levels.  Assessing their talents and skill sets. Noticing that they were blatantly understaffed and lacking real structure and training within the agency.     
  
Had it always been this way? Had he been so engrossed in his own missions to notice?  Or had things changed within the world of espionage so much since he had been away?    
  
Maybe it was because their focus had shifted to include rooting out Spectre’s holdings in the world.  It was obvious from the reports he had read earlier that the Quartermaster had spent countless hours picking apart the bits and pieces of Nine Eyes that also seems to engrained in every agency that existed.   Sometimes with said agencies knowledge. Sometimes he infiltrated their systems and went to work without their knowledge..: and with a vengeance.    
  
And as he sipped the amber liquid, turning the pages of a file, his thoughts turned to Q and wondered what had drawn him to the agent pictured in the file in front of him. 

Lance Hendricks. 38 years old at his time of death.  Mission report stated he was killed in action after being betrayed by a former colleague.  Witnessed by all who were running his final mission.    
  
Bond dug for the personal details.  Hendricks had only been a double oh for a few months before his death.  His close personal connection - next of kin status - with Q was only evident in the files mere weeks before it was needed.  The man had his own flat, so they weren’t cohabiting, at least not officially.   
  
Family.  His parents were deceased, a living sister in Killorglin, Ireland, married with 2 children.  He had lived in Europe for much of the last 20 years until he earned his 007 designation.    
  
That rankled.  007 was his!    
  
Bond had never actively pursued Q, but he had taken full advantage of the attraction between them.  He felt no guilt, but a certain amount of regret. Madeline had not been the salve to his aching heart, nor had she tenderly administered to his wounded pride.  In the end, the bitch had walked out without a backward glance leaving Bond a tad more damaged than he had been before, and a whole lot more amenable to a return when Mallory had dangled it.   
  
The final sheet of paper made Bond grind his teeth.  A declaration of their relationship made by Hendricks himself, making it official in Six’s files.  

This was no casual hook up. 

And for some reason that pissed him off more than anything else.   
  
  


  
  



	5. Chapter 5

“I realise that this will increase all of your work loads for the time being but after we hire the new personnel and they are trained I hope things will settle. And before the question is raised, yes there has been funds appropriated.   Your budgets will be adjusted according. Please speak with Tanner in regards to that subject.” Mallory stood in front of his desk addressing various department heads that would be involved with the upcoming project that Bond was assigned to head.   
  
The meeting droned on interrupting what Q determined was time better spent elsewhere and continued to work on his laptop as he hides in the back of the room.  He listens to Mallory speak about new assignments and growth in the agent program. And then, of course, he lets Bond speak. Blah blah blah. He hears nothing the man says, his anger still seething just below the surface.  
  
He is going to be forced to work with Bond.  He knows it and can’t in scenarios he has played out in his head see anyway around it at all.    
  
As the meeting breaks up, Q tries to sneak out the door before he can be called on by M, but instead gets cornered by Bond instead. “Quartermaster, I liked to discuss with you the rooster of currently active agents at all levels.  You have direct contact with the vast majority of them. I’d like your input on some things.”  
  
Sighing from between gritted teeth Q growls “What do you want to know?”  
  
“Find me at...” Bond checks his watch.  “11:00 hours. We can go over the agent allocation.  My office.”  
  
Bond turned away and ignores Q until the Quartermaster gives up and walks away.  Getting Q alone was Bond’s primary aim, anything beyond that was a bonus.  
  
That said, by the time Q’s brisk knock rapped on the door to Bond’s small office the ex-agent was on edge. Q also was on high alert, in an office that felt like a threat, with a man who still held an unreasonable hold somehow on Q’s heart.  They stared at each other for a long moment until Bond broke the tense silence.  
  
“I would appreciate your input on this first allocation.  Also, a review of what has changed in the double oh programme since I’ve been gone.  Agents who stayed. Those who were lost and the circumstances. What we can learn..?”

Q took deep breath standing just inside the door of Bond’s office steeling himself to have this conversation with him... actually any conversation with him.  Even after all that had happened over the last two years, Q still felt regret at the feelings he had for Bond at one time that had been unrequited. It reminded him of how foolish he had been and how much he had grown and changed since then.  
  
Q quickly summed up for Bond who was still on the rooster of double ohs, their status, current missions and so on.  When the conversation reached the numbers that were open at the moment, Q hesitated bracing himself for this discussion with Bond.  “At the moment we are lacking agents to fill 002, 007, and 0010. There just hasn’t been time for anyone to review the A level eligible agents to move someone up.” Q began.  “Mallory hasn’t had the time to even look at the recommendations Tanner and I made.”  
  
“Going over these files Q,” Bond pulled out the personnel files for the agents previously filling those numbers, “all three of these lost agents seem to have died under vastly different circumstances.  Have we learned anything from it?”  
  
Q inwardly cringed as Bond laid Hendricks file in the top of the pile.  “002’s death was a misstep on her part. Not paying attention to the entire scenario.  Too much confidence in her own skills. The ever present cocky double oh tendencies. 0010 death was non mission related.  Purely accidental… car accident. He was not at fault. And from 007’s demise, we assessed that the outer stations had become lax in vetting their own personnel. A situation that is still being addressed but making progress.”  
  
Bond saw Q’s hands flinched when he laid Hendricks file in the table. Saw him tense as he spoke of the previous 007’s death. Little tells in the Quartermaster that Hendricks death still obviously pained him and was difficult for him to discuss.

“Tell me about him.”  Bond leaned back in his chair and adopted a look he imagined presented 'interested'.  Curiosity about a fellow agent.  
  
But Q wasn’t fooled.  “I think you discovered everything you wanted to know when you invaded my home, Bond.  What else could you possibly need to know from me?” He forced his arms to remain by his sides so as not to hug himself.  Anger simmered beneath the surface but he had promised Mallory he would work with Bond. “Nothing that would be relevant to what we are doing here.”  
  
“I didn’t know you had someone. I was curious.”  
  
“Curious?!”  Q’s voice rose, his control slipping.  “Without knowing anything about us, about him, you went through our personal things.  You disturbed memories.” Q bit his lip, blinking hard, staring at the floor. He would not let tears escape, no matter what.  “Normal people ask, face to face. It's what they do. But not you… oh no.” He turned his glare on Bond. “You thought you could walk back in here and nothing had changed. Like we were all just waiting here for Bond the prodigal son to return.  But no, life moved on, Bond. And it took us with it.”

“When you have something to discuss with me in regards to your position within MI6, you know where to find me, Bond.  My personal life is off limits to you and not up for further discussion.” Q quickly turned and left Bond’s office.  



	6. Chapter 6

Over the next few days, Bond came to quickly realise that C’s disruption in the working of the agency and the influence of Spectre had changed the status quo immensely while he was away.  MI6 was in the middle of restructuring and rebuilding. All aspects of the agency had been affected from Q Branch to Medical to the roosters of agents themselves.    
  
After speaking with Mallory, he and Bond both came to the conclusion that the immediate need for him to concentrate on was to fill out the current roster of agents to fill capacity and then begin the process of doubling their numbers.  And his best option for quickly assessing their current agents was to work with Tanner and Q since they worked closely with them on a daily basis.    
  
“So this is the definite ‘no’ pile.  This is the ‘maybe’ pile. These are the ‘yes’ let’s promote them.” Q dropped three piles of files folders onto Tanner’s desktop almost dumping his cup of tea onto one of the piles.  Tanner’s quick reflexes saved them from a disastrous death.    
  
“I want him.”  Bond grabbed the top file off the ‘no’ pile tossing it onto the ‘yes’ pile.     
  
“Oh you are fucking kidding me, Bond!”  Q snapped at him. “He’s a bad fit. He’ll be nothing but problems.“  He grabbed the file up tossing it back in the ‘no’ pile again. 

Bond snatched it back and placed his palm flat on the pile preventing Q from removing the file again.  “He’s exactly what is needed. Can think on his feet, charm his way into and out of any situation.”   
  
“Overconfident, arrogant.  Thinks he’s invincible.” Q countered.  “We’ll spend half our time trying to keep him out of trouble.”   
  
“Sounds like someone we know,” Tanner murmured under his breath, but Q’s sharp hearing caught it.  He grimaced and opened his mouth to say no again but Bond continued.   
  
“His test scores are second to none.  His recommendations all praise him. He keeps himself in good shape, is adaptable, and he has the necessary experience.  What’s more, he wants it, is hungry for it. I want him.”   
  
“He’s a menace,” Q growled, aware he was losing the argument, personal feelings versus the agent’s excellent skill set.  “He disrupts my department, speaks inappropriately and can’t keep his hands off my equipment!”   
  
“Definitely like someone we know” Tanner spoke out loud.  “Umm... carry on, forget I’m here.” He busied himself removing the no pile leaving Bond and Q to their disagreement.   
  
Bond grinned.  “Fair comment. It’s true, he reminds me of myself.  Keen and ready.”   
  
“All your worst faults, Bond, on that we agree at least.”

Q gave up and let Bond have his new 007.  It wouldn’t have done any good to fight him on it, as it was Bond was dead set on having him promoted into the number.  Unfortunately, Bond was not the one to be forced to put up with all the shite that was bound to follow this new 007 around. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

The new double oh was an utter nuisance out in the field and refused to follow mission parameters.  If Q told him to go left, he went right. He harassed the Q Branch techs. He light fingered equipment from R&D.  And when the new 007 was in Q Branch, he felt the need to constantly be in Q’s personal space. And when Q complained to M and Tanner about him, M constantly deferred to Bond stating that was what he hired him for and to take the matter up with him.  

“Bond!  I will not put with that man’s shite anymore!  He is a pain in the fucking arse. He wreaks havoc with my team and he has too much collateral damage on out missions.  Unacceptable.” Q snarled at Bond in front of his entire team not caring who heard. 

Eventually late one night in Q Branch, “For the last time, no!  It’s almost 1am and the only place I am going is home. Alone!” He held up a warning hand, daring the double oh to respond.   
  
“No fun, Q.  I bet you love a bit of risk.”   
  
“No one fires that thing until I’ve thoroughly inspected and tested it.  And if you don’t put it down and get out of my office now, I swear to God...!”   
  
Q’s mouth snapped shut when he became aware they had an audience.  The new 007 continued to be totally oblivious however, leaning into the Quartermaster’s personal space.  His right hand fell possessively onto Q’s shoulder, his left held a non-issue weapon, gesturing at the outer office with it.   
  
“Come on, Q.  The place is deserted, no one to disturb us.  And afterwards we can-“   
  
The agent didn’t have a chance to finish before he was roughly relieved of the gun and found himself face pressed to the wall with his arm forced painfully up his back.    
  
“Problem here, Quartermaster?”  Bond looked over his shoulder, ignoring his prisoner’s protests.    
  
“I think I made my feelings clear on that, Bond.  Get him out of my sight before you find yourself short of a double Oh.”

Bond roughly escorted the newest 007 out of Q Branch informing him under no uncertain terms that he would be meeting with M and himself at 08:00 hours later that morning.

He stood outside the entryway doors of Q Branch for a moment, watching Q angrily shove away the weaponry prototype he had been studying before slowly wandering his way back in and to the main workstation at the front of the room.  The few tech who were still left on duty that late at night buried themselves in their work, acting as if they had never witness the confrontation between their Quartermaster and agent. And they definitely wanted to be invisible for the conversation they knew Bond and Q were about to have.

“Q…”

“Don’t even start Bond!” Q kept his back to Bond.  “You knew my objections to that bastard from the start.  You ignored everything I had to say. What you witnessed tonight was just prime example of what my team and myself have tolerated from  that man for weeks.”

Q finally turned around to face Bond.  He could see a brief glimpse of Q’s almost imperceivable tell that he was shaken by the incident, but it disappeared almost immediately.  And if one did not know the Quartermaster well, it would have never been noticed. “I am going to put in a formal request to M in the morning that he be removed from the double oh roster.”

“I don’t have anyone else who can step up right now.”  Bond was reluctant to let this one go. Sure he had some rough edges to be smoothed, and he needed some respect knocked into him on the sparring mat maybe but... “He’s the future of this program.”

Q’s disgust was obvious.  “If he is what you are cultivating then this program is dead already.  He makes my skin crawl.”   
  
Bond smirked.  “He’s practicing his charm on you. You should be flattered.  It’s not like you’re fighting off attention hidden down here.”   
  
The silence that fell was deafening, the entire remaining staff holding their collective breath.     
  
“Flattered?!   You think I’m so starved for attention I should be happy to be pawed and leered at daily?  The poor lonely Quartermaster needs to be grateful to be noticed?” Q couldn’t hide the flicker of hurt that preceded his cold angry words.     
  
Bond saw it and it twisted like a knife in his gut.  “That’s not what-“   
  
“When you left I breathed a sigh of relief.  No more of your shite. The stupid flirting gone.  No more 007 closer than my shadow, teasing and being a fucking nuisance.”  Q gripped the edge of his desk, eyes like flint behind his glasses. Two bright pink spots of anger bloomed on his cheeks.  “I have never been happier to see the back of a man in my life! Then here you are, back, with a fucking protege in tow. Is it all part of his training Bond?  To be a bigger thorn in my side than even you?”

“And do you know why I breathed a sigh of relief Bond.” At this point Q was beyond caring that there were other people in Q Branch besides the two of them.  Words that needed long since said… out loud to Bond needed to come out. “Because I realised that when you walked away that the man I thought was inside you, the one that I cared about and hoped would eventually care about, didn’t really exist.  He was just an illusion. Another legend that the omnipotent James Bond brought out to play at times.”

“And being the fool I was, I fell for the act.”  

“Q…” Bond started to take a step towards him but Q threw up a hand halting him.

“No! You don’t get a chance to try to sweet talk your way around all of this.” Q rounded the desk not caring that he was openly confronting a man who could probably snap him in half.  

“Do you know what happened when I finally let go of the hurt and that illusion Bond?  Someone walked into my life who loved me. Loved me for myself and all my nerdy geekiness.”  Q had now reined back in his anger and had settled into the cold calculating mask of the Quartermaster.

“And now that you’re back I not only have you being the same old arsehole but now we have junior Bond to deal with.  Same shite. Different day.” And before Bond realised what was happening, the prototype weapon that the new 007 had been waving around was in Q’s hand and pointed at him.  

“I.am.not. the same Quartermaster that you walked away from two years ago.  And.I.will.not be disrespected by you or any of your agents.” Q adjusted his stance slightly, leveling the gun at Bond’s heart.  “I will be filing a formal complaint against ‘your’ agent tomorrow. Now get out of my division, Bond.”

“Fuck Q,” one of the techs whispered from somewhere in the room.  

Bond retreated but only as far as the reception lobby where he stood regarding the name of Q’s deceased lover on the wall.  Q’s outburst stung more than he wanted to admit. He had been aware that Q had been fond of him in that exasperated posh haughty way the Quartermaster had.  And yes, he had used the fact once or twice. But he hadn’t mistreated him. Had he? It was all part of the game...

He noticed when Q hurried out of the building, head down, intent on reaching the sanctity of his flat. Bond fell into step with him silently pondering what he should say.  Q ignored him until he reached the main road where he flagged down a black cab, deliberately shutting the car door leaving Bond on the pavement. A few moments later his phone vibrated with a text.   
  
‘My recommendations for the next 007 designation are in your inbox. Try to appoint someone worthy of the number this time.’   
  
Bond avoided Six for most of the day, returning to the upper corridor shortly before 6pm.  He was leaning against the wall outside M’s office when Moneypenny emerged.   
  
“Moneypenny!  Looking stunning as always!  It’s a shame to waste such beauty on a TV dinner and a soap opera.”   
  
“What do you want, Bond?”     
  
“A dinner companion.  Someone who I know will be straight with me.”   
  
Moneypenny arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow and pursed her lips.  “Keep talking. Somewhere fancy. With a bill to make even James Bond wince.”   
  
“I need your advice.  About Q.”   
  
“Oh my god! You’re serious.”  She took Bond’s arm and propelled him down the corridor.  “Make it worth my while and I’ll sing like a bird. But just so you know, you’re in deep poop.”   
  


  
  



	8. Chapter 8

They sat at a secluded table in one of the most expensive Italian Restaurants in London where of course they knew Bond by name.  Bond sat with has back to the wall so he could observe the room. Eve had protested but of course Bond reminded her that she still owed him for shooting him which prompted Eve to also remind him that debt had been repaid many times over.     
  
“One thing you need to keep in mind Bond is that you’ve been away for a long time”. Eve sipped the glass of red wine in her hand.  “A lot has happened and you didn’t really leave on good terms... with anyone.”   
  
Before he could say anything she continued.  “You walked away and left us with a disaster, especially one for Q.  Whether he will able to ever admit or not, you in some ways broke his heart.”     
  
Had he been so wrong, Bond thought.  He never considered just exactly what Q had been thinking or feeling..     
  
“And then with all the remnants of Spectre and Nine Eyes to root out.  Q worked himself needing to be admitted to Medical I can’t tell you how many times.  Of course he refused it always. M actually put him on restricted duty twice.” She paused in their conversation when the wait staff brought out starters to the table.     
  
“And you can just imagine how pissy that made him.  Let alone the field day Psyche has had with him.” Eve stopped looking at Bond with an odd expression that he didn’t recognise in her.  “He’s not the Quartermaster you used to know, James.”   
  
“He said he cared about me.  But then he fell in love with someone else.  How could he do that?”   
  
Moneypenny paused with a prawn halfway to her mouth.  She lowered it back to her plate with a sigh. “Are you really so self-centred that you expected him to wait for you no matter what?  Leaving the job aside for the minute, he risked his career and his bloody neck for you, only to watch you walk away with that airhead.  Even then he stayed stupidly loyal to a vision of you that only he could see.”   
  
“Hendricks was the perfect man for him.”  She held a warning finger up when Bond tried to speak.  “It wasn’t just a physical attraction. They held a deep regard for each other.  Hendricks cared and he was open about his love for Q. He made sure Q knew that he was everything to him, even in the short time they had.  He wasn’t proud and he never made Q doubt him.”   
  
“So I’m competing with a saint?”   
  
“James!  There is no contest.  If Hendricks were here you would not even be in the running. There is no doubt in my mind about that.”  She finally managed to eat a prawn and chewed it irritably while he mulled over what she said.   
  
“Q’s vision of me...  He does exist. But I couldn’t see a future for us beyond a few mutually satisfying tumbles.  Madeline was a distraction and for a while I even thought she would be enough. But she couldn’t make me laugh or get angry.  She couldn’t frustrate me or insult me even when needed. She was bland and I learned I could not live a bland life. I needed someone who could do all of that and I’d kept him at arm's length...”

“Bond, I don’t know what you have in mind, but don’t.  Don’t even think it.” Eve pointed at him with her fork.  “And if you make things disruptive at work, I can tell you that M will side with Q.   You are replaceable. Q is not.“

“That not my intent at all, Eve.”  It poked at Bond that someone else had made Q happy, had found that place inside Q that made him contented in life.  Q had been happy. And it hadn’t been him. 

“To be honest Bond, I’m  not really sure that there will ever be a place for someone else in his life.  Oh I’m not saying that he isn’t going to go out on the pull anymore, because he will eventually need human contact.”  

“Well...” Bond chuckled.    
  
“Don’t even think it James. You are definitely not on that list for Q either.  And if that is your only intention for him, you might as well just walk away again. But don’t bother coming back at all this time.”

“And if it’s not all I had in mind?  The job wasn’t the only reason I came back, Eve.  I wanted to start again amongst friends. Build this programme into something we can be proud of with Q’s help, but he can barely bring himself to speak to me.  Tell me how I can change his mind about me.”

Their main courses arrived and Bond topped up Moneypenny’s glass waiting for her to give him the magic solution.  Seconds became minutes of silence as she tucked in to her meal. Finally she put down her cutlery and looked him at him directly.   
  
“No, I won’t.  I can’t be responsible for allowing you to destroy him again.  The best advice I can give you is not be yourself and give him the space he demands.”   
  
“Not myself?”   
  
“You know what I mean.  You need to show him you can do what he asks, even if that is distance.  If - and it’s a big if - he still feels anything for you he will decide what happens, not you.”   
  
“Honestly Eve, do I have a chance?”   
  
“Miracles have been known for those who deserve them.”

  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

And true to his word, Q filed a formal complaint with M in regards to the behaviour of the new 007 and had sent recommendations to Bond email suggesting replacements to fill the position.      
  
Looking through a file folder, “Off to a slightly rocky start with our Quartermaster I see, Bond.”  Mallory commented without glancing up as Bond took a seat in front of his desk.   
  
“A temporary set back, Sir.  One I plan to rectify.”   
  
“Make it happen Bond because MI6 can not afford and squabbling internally.  None Bond. We’re still under scrutiny even though we have made remarkable achievements since the Spectre fiasco and the C debacle.”  M gave the file folder a toss across the desk towards Bond.   
  
“The vast majority of those achievements we owe to our Quartermaster.”  M continued. “You might want a glance at his latest report before he arrives for this meeting.”

Q swanned into M’s office ten minutes later casting a sour glance in Bond’s direction.  He sat at M’s invitation and waited patiently for their superior to begin the meeting.

“You have made remarkable progress, Q,” Bond commented, thumbing through the papers in Q’s report.  “Some of these outcomes... M, Mansfield... she tried for years to bring this kind of coordination to the programme.  In the last year alone your advances in field tech and intelligence gathering are astounding.”  
  
Q regarded Bond suspiciously.  Not one given to preening under praise anyway, he was suspicious of the ex-agent’s motives.     
  
“I have an excellent team.  We are well-resourced. And we learn from past errors.”  He glanced towards Mallory who indicated he should continue.  “The one area holding us back is the damage done to the double oh programme.  We need a new breed of agent. Charming sledgehammer to crack an overconfident nut is no longer viable.”   
  
“You’re saying we need to modernise?”  Bond flicked back through several pages.  “Espionage is no longer a gentleman’s game?”   
  
Q snorted.  “Where you are concerned, and your dubious selections, gentlemanly conduct is a joke.  You are dinosaurs in a fast-paced, hi-tech world. With respect, winning the war with your penises is no longer viable.”   
  
Bond smirked at him.  “Sex always has been and will be a weapon in the arsenal, Q.”   
  
“No.”  Q shook his head.  “Agents proved that to be false.  I want all such instruction dropped from the programme.”

“They need to be prepared for every situation, Q.  Be able to retrieve whatever they need using every means possible.” Bond added garnering a eye roll from the Quartermaster.

“But it is not the only means. Which seems to have been the norm for agents in recent years,” Q glared at Bond. “They’ve become lax in even considering any other options.”

“I don’t need to listen to your debates back and forth about the importance of sex in an agents training,” Mallory jumped into the middle of the conversation.  “You two discuss this. Revamp the training program and went that has been settled, come back to me.”

“Yes sir,”  Q gathered up his files as he stood up to leave.  Bond stood with a nod to M as he followed the Quartermaster out of the office.

“Q, can we meet later this afternoon if you schedule is free?” Bond stopped him in the outer office near Moneypenny ‘s desk.  “We need to settle this situation so we can move this program ahead. The agency is in dire need to more agents out in the field.”

Q sighed and pulled his mobile out of his pocket and with a swipe and a few poked at it.  “3 pm my office, Bond. And don’t expect me to bend on this point.”

Bond arrived promptly - when was he ever late? - bringing take away coffee for both of them and a bag of pastries.  Even at 3pm they were fresh, a fact that irrationally annoyed Q.

“I can't be bought, Bond.  Not even with an almond croissant." But Q munched contentedly for a few moments before he sighed deeply and pulled his chair up to the desk.  "Before we start, my position hasn't changed on the sex."

Bond smirked and found he had to mentally restrain himself from uttering the quip that hovered on the tip of his tongue.  Moneypenny had warned him Q would not consider flippancy to be a good sign. Proving he could take advice was going to be difficult however.

Bond held up his file.  "Before you get on your high horse, I'm prepared to consider focusing on other skills.  There will always be a place for seduction when fast results are needed, but I concede that an amount of reliance on it has developed."

“Because of you, Bond.  Half the bloody agents in the field shag their way to a result, because they watched you do it for half a sodding decade before you left.  Do you know I uncovered a betting pool amongst the junior techs just before I came to you in Sölden? What do you shoot first, your weapon or your load?"

Bond couldn't help but laugh, hearing the crude comment from Q's posh mouth.  "I'm sorry. I never expected to hear such words from the buttoned-up Quartermaster."

It stung.  Q blushed and hid behind a large swallow of coffee, burning his mouth in the process.  Buttoned up? Was that Bond's genuine opinion of him? Why he'd flirted mercilessly but never taken it further?  Q had been determined to remain professional, but he'd been waiting for Bond to be... well, BOND! and blow professionalism off faster than he could blow Q.

"Look," Bond was talking as though he'd not noticed Q's embarrassment.  "Let's strike that particular training from the plan initially. Tell me what you think we should do, and I'll tell you if it will work or not.  I'm not here to antagonise you Q. We worked well together in the past. I'd like to think we can again."

Q and Bond spent hours arguing back and forth about training, protocols and what equipment and agent really needed out in the field to have an advantage.   Bond soon came to realise that more often than not, the Quartermaster had valid points and practicalities to his position on certain things that Bond had never considered.   Q did also acquiesce a few times to Bond’s field experience.

“Q.  We’ve been at this for hours.  Let’s take a break for the evening and let me buy you dinner.”  
  
“No.  Definitely not.” He instantly responded.     
  
“We could order takeaway...”   
  
“What do you not understand about ‘no’ Bond!”   
  
Bond started to push but then remembered Moneypenny cautioning.  “As you wish, Quartermaster.”   
  
Bond stood and headed for the door. “I’ll have our discussion written up for you to look over sometime tomorrow.”   He had a feeling that Q would still be there for hours from the look of his schedule that had been pushed back by their discussions.  He took a moment to stop at R’s desk to ask her to make sure the Quartermaster was fed and ate in a short time.   
  
As Bond headed out for the evening, his thoughts turned back to the discussion he had with Q earlier.  He hated to admit it but it did poke at him at how adamant Q had been about not having dinner with him.   Something to work towards and rectify.   


  



	10. Chapter 10

“You were supposed to leave two hours ago!”     
  
Q looked up to Find Moneypenny leaning against the doorframe of his office, a white carrier bag from a takeaway dangling from her hand.  She was dressed in jeans and boots, so had obviously been home to change. The fact she was here with food meant R had told tales.   
  
“Busy.  Too much to do.  Thai?” He looked hopeful.   
  
“Chinese, sorry.  I called on the way to make sure you were still here.”     
  
She began unpacking containers onto his desk with no heed for his paperwork which he had to hurriedly gather up.  “My meeting with Bond overran. It wrecked the rest of my schedule.”   
  
“And?  How did it go?”   
  
“He asked me to dinner.”   
  
“He’s persistent even after rejection, I’ll give him that.  Was he a pest?”   
  
Q put down his noodles, stabbing his chopsticks into the centre while he topped up two mugs from the wine Moneypenny had brought.   
  
“Actually, no.  It was a productive meeting and he didn’t hound me when I refused.”   
  
“You sound disappointed.”  Moneypenny was far too quick to notice his tells.  Cow!   
  
“Not disappointed, no.  Just surprised he gave in so quickly and didn’t push.  Or flirt, or tease. He was very professional.”   
  
“And you bloody hated it.  I can see it in your expression.”  She pointed at him with her own chopsticks.  “You’re pissed off now because you want to knock him back and feel some satisfaction that it hurts his ego.  But instead he’s playing it cool, and that also makes you cross. Oh this is going to be fun!”

Bond was back in the agency files that detailed every incident and action that had happened since he had taken his leave and walked away. He poured through file after file of the months of work to rid themselves of Nine Eyes and the damage C had done.  Bond felt as if he was missing key point as to what had befallen MI6 and the rebuilding process to bring them back to operating at 100% capacity once more. 

The more he read the more Q’s name came into play in Mallory’s reports.  Q had been a major player in killing any lingering tentacles of Nine Eyes that were woven deep into every integral part of all organisations.   That right there must have pissed the Quartermaster off, immensely livid. Nine eyes had made its way into his domain. And the Quartermaster had gone to war with a vengeance.  

In Mallory’s reports also were the constant concerns and warnings of Medical and Psych as the Quartermaster’s war continued.  No sleep or little to none. Lacking in nutrition, tea and sweets do not count. The list went on and on until Mallory had to step in and intervene sending Q on forced leave multiple times over the months.  

As he read farther Bond discovered also that the main reason they were lacking in agents was merely the normal issues of when an organisation goes into reorganisation.   Personnel are grabbed up by other agencies. They decide to retire or decide to get out of the business altogether. And so they had resorted into pulling agents in from other Stations under MI6’s umbrella which occurred just about the time that Q was winding down the Nine Eyes debacle. 

And that brought him back to the other issue that faced him.   

Hendricks. 

  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Bond threw the files on his desk in utter frustration.  He couldn’t understand what had happened. He needed to know what had happened.   And before he could stop himself, Bond found himself standing inside Q’s dark unoccupied flat again searching for clues.

Bond drew the curtains and turned on a lamp, wary of attracting attention from the street.  He was fairly sure he had successfully deactivated all of Q’s securities but one could never be sure.     
  
Standing in the centre of the rug, another new addition, he turned slowly, taking in all the details that were clearly not purely Q anymore.  There was the rug, of course, and the vinyl collection. Throws on the two sofas, a handful of ornaments - something Q would have probably considered clutter - and of course that photograph, glass still cracked but back in its place.  Somehow Q had grown to love these items that had never been necessary in his home previously.   
  
Bond methodically searched the room.  In a drawer he found a glasses case containing a pair of designer frames that weren’t Q’s style.  Inside was a folded note in Q’s handwriting of his address and mobile number. Bond pictured Q eagerly handing the details over to the new agent he’d just met.  Q had never given Bond his address, he had gleaned it from following Q home, confirmed it by breaking in. In hindsight, Bond could see why Q was pissed off about it, but at the time Bond had justified it as simply honing his skills.   
  
He moved on to the bedroom.  It had the feeling of a shared space now he took the time to notice.  In amongst the designer suits were much more casual outfits that obviously saw a lot more wear than the impeccably cut suits.  And footwear that was both functional yet stylish, definitely worn in. Bond didn’t understand why Q kept it all. It was too large for him, and taking up space.  Was this what bereaved lovers did to hang on to their memories? It felt like a fruitless endeavour to Bond.   
  
Across the room a set of bookshelves had been mounted on the wall and Bond took a few moments to scan the titles.  Volumes on European History, art and culture leaned against a grubby manual on engines. Sheets of paper poked haphazardly from between the manual pages and when Bond tugged them free he saw they were engine schematics annotated in Q’s scrawl, and another, neat, precise hand.  With doodles of smiling faces dotted here and there. Doodles!   
  
On the lower shelf Bond flipped the lid on a wooden casket, and then stepped back with a curse.  Inside the lid a brass plate declared it to be Lance Hendricks himself, or rather his ashes. Why the hell would Q keep such a thing instead of disposing of them respectfully in a memorial garden?  It was an uncomfortable thought that the ghost of Hendricks watched Bond from his perch on the shelf.   
  
Beside it, a similar wooden box squatted and Bond raised the lid cautiously.  “If this is the remains of a bloody cat, Q, I swear to god...”.    
  
It wasn’t.     
  
Clearly some kind of memory box stuffed to the brim with treasured keepsakes.  Bond sat on the bed and upended it, spilling its contents into an untidy pile. This.  This was what he had come for. The key to the relationship that he had never managed, and which Q had so effortlessly fallen into within a matter of days of meeting Hendricks.     
  
Personal effects.  Hendricks leather wallet, a Gents Cartier watch with a silver bracelet too heavy for Q’s slim wrists.  Two rings which Bond dropped to one side not able to consider too closely what they might represent, or indeed if they were both Hendricks’ or one possibly Q’s.   
  
Photographs. A large handful of well-thumbed memories, creased, crumpled from being held closely in the hands of a grieving Quartermaster.  Photos of Hendricks, relaxed and smiling at the camera - at Q. Photos of them together in London’s parks or by the Thames with a backdrop of late autumn colour or frost silvered trees.  Photos of Q. Happy. Laughing out loud, head thrown back with obvious joy. Gazing at Hendricks with a look that Bond had never seen in the eyes of his lovers.    
  
It hurt.     
  
Fuck, but it hurt to see Q look at another man like that.  To show someone else such open hearted trust and love. Bond stared for a long time at an image of absolute happiness.  Q in Hendricks arms, lying in the very bed Bond sat on now, both grinning up at the camera clinking glasses of ruby red wine.  

Bond flipped it over.  

‘Best Christmas ever, thanks to you.  L x’

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional notes for this chapter... contains sex under emotional duress. Angry/vengeful sex. Consensual sex and is in no way is this noncon dubcon sex.

For a long lived spy, Bond had his moments of utter disregard to any of his training.  This was one of them. He has completely lost track of time. Bond was so engrossed in his unwelcome snooping that he didn’t hear Q return to his flat from work.   
  
It wasn’t until he spoke, “You have two minutes to either get your fucking arse out of my flat and I call M directly or I can just shoot you now.”   
  
Bond froze, photo of Hendricks and Q together in his hand.   Slowly he glanced up at Q to find one of Q’s own palm print Walthers pointed directly at his head.  Green lights reflecting off of his palm.   
  
“Q.  If you would just...”   
  
“I will not!  I warned you, Bond.  You do not have free reign of my home and especially not my personal things.” Q snarled at him, eyes blazing in angry.     
  
“Q.  I didn’t mean any harm.  I just...”   
  
“You have no idea what harm you’ve done, Bond.  You can’t even comprehend.”   
  
"I want to understand.  Explain it to me. Please..."  Bond rose and took a step towards Q.  The gun in Q's grip rose slightly. "What did I do that turned you against me and pushed you into this relationship?"

Q shook his head angrily.  "What did you do? The very fact you ask that question proves you will never understand even if I spell it out.  Pushed? NO! I jumped into my relationship with Lance. I bloody leapt, Bond, joyfully, because he made me feel like I was the only man in the world who mattered.  And he never let me think I was second to anything, especially not the job!"

"They always come second to the job, Q, you know that.  No matter what he told you, he..."

"You have no fucking idea, Bond.  No, clue at all. You manipulate even the people you care about, because to you, getting what you want is what shows you they care.  You took advantage of us all. Tanner, M, Moneypenny... But most of all, ME! You knew exactly how to give just enough that maybe I would think..."  Q had lowered the gun during his tirade, but now he raised it again and pointed it directly at Bond's heart. "No. No, you do not get to hear that. Fuck you, Bond.  I was loved, and I loved in return, and whether it was fate or fuck up, that was taken from me in the worst way. I don't have to explain it to you."

"You loved him.  I can see from all of this, that you did."  Bond carefully laid the photograph on top of the scattered pile.  "But you barely knew him. How could you possibly know?"

"You want me to explain love to you, Bond?"  Q sneered, his expression turned hard. The gun dropped to his side and Q stalked over to him, gripping Bond's jaw and meeting the ice blue gaze.  "Because there is so much more you need to understand before you even try to comprehend love. Like respect. Genuine friendship. Valuing people. And connection on all levels, not just sex."  

Q turned away from Bond briefly lying the weapon on the bedside table before turning back to him.  Q’s demeanour openly shifted into something that Bond couldn’t place. There was so much about this changed Quartermaster that he didn’t understand.   
  
Q walked directly up to him.  Inches from him. Bond could feel the warmth of his body radiating through his clothing.  Q’s hands roughly gripes either side of Bond’s face. Those slender long fingers curled underneath his jaw line.     
  
“Q?” Bond questioned, staring into the green eyes inches away from him, wanting to understand what was going through the younger man’s head.   
  
Instead of answering, Q closed the inches between them, pushing himself against Bond.  To Bond’s surprise, Q pushed in to kiss him. Hard, rash, lip bruising. Fuelled by emotional turmoil that suddenly was out of controlled.     
  
Bond expected Q to break away but when he didn’t, he found his hands wrapped around the Quartermaster’s thin waist returning the kiss with fervour.

Q ground against Bond, battling with him to control the kiss.  He wouldn't let Bond gain the upper hand. That was not on the agenda at all.  He could feel Bond's erection pressed against his stomach, and the agent growled into his mouth, fighting already to pull Q's shirt from his trousers.  He tried to back Q towards the bed but Q pulled away, one hand still tangled in Bond's hair.

“No.  Not here." Q snarled.  "Not in our bed." Without breaking the kisses he dragged Bond out of the bedroom and across the hall to the living room.  Bond was focused entirely on keeping up with this unexpected turn of events, and went with the change in location without question.  "Here" Q gasped, pushing Bond against the wall and groping in a drawer to his right, coming up with a sticky tube of lubricant. "Put this to good use."

Bond juggled the tube and the Quartermaster, wrangling the younger man until he was sprawled inelegantly over the back of the sofa, trousers and underwear pushed down to mid thigh.  Bond's fingers probed between his arse cheeks, giving him scant preparation. Two fingers were pushed in and dragged out repeatedly, opening a channel for Bond's throbbing cock.

"What are you waiting for?" Q growled, letting his upper body loll over the cushions.  "Fuck me!"

And fuck him, he did.  Bond pushed inside not bothering to take his time as Q hissed his demand that he get on with it.   Bond shoved him into the back of the sofa burying himself deep inside Q. 

“Is that all you’ve got?  Damnit fuck me, Bond!” Q grunted as Bond reached around him taking Q’s cock in hand, a little lube still remaining on his fingers but not enough to make the strokes glide easily.    
  
Q panted.  Bond moaned.  It wasn’t long before Q was coming hard all over that back of his sofa.  Bond followed right along with him a few strokes later leaning heavily against Q’s back.   
  
A few moments later, breathing hard, Q shoved Bond off and away from him quickly jerking his clothing backup and half into place.  “Now get out Bond! You’ve got what you’ve wanted all along. Another conquest to brag about.”   
  
Bond stood speechless at the venom in Q’s voice.   
  
“And I’ve found out that what I thought I desperately wanted at one time wasn’t worth it.”

“Q?” Bond stuffed his cock back into his trousers and waited for Q to explain.  Q wasn’t of a mind to however.

“Do I have to spell it out Bond?  You fucked me, now fuck off. Our relationship” Q sneered “is nothing more than cum on my sofa cushions.”  
  
“Q, I..?”   
  
“What?  You love me?  You want to be the man in my life I want and need?”  Q headed for the bathroom. “No chance. You didn’t stick around when I needed you, and I’m glad. It enabled me to find the love of my life.  To know how it feels to be the centre of someone’s universe. You’ll never know that Bond, because the only bastard at the centre of your universe is you.”   
  
Q should have left it at that but anger and hurt spilled out.  “You’ll never know how it feels to be loved Bond. You’re a self-centred ignorant prick.  And I am worth so much more than you.”

Q shut the bathroom door behind himself locking it.  Back pressed against the door as Bond banged on it from the outside.   

“Q!  Open the door!”  Bond demanded insistently.  Q refused to answer him. “Q.  Please. Can we please talk about this?”     
  
Q remainder silent eventually hearing Bond’s footsteps moving away from the door.  And a few moments later the outer door of his flat open and close. He began to shake, anger still rolling.  A hand pressed tightly over his mouth to keep from vomiting.   
  
Slowly he sank to the floor still pressed against the door.  The reality of what had just happened, what he had done, screamed loudly at him.   He had let Bond touch him. Fuck him. He pulled his knees to his chest and began to sob.  

Eventually Q was cried out.  He struggled stiffly to his feet and stripped, stepping into the shower where he let the steaming water wash as much of Bond away from his body as was possible.  Once done he dressed in pyjama pants and Hendricks t-shirt that Q still kept under his pillow.

Tears began again, this time slow and silent, as Q carefully packed Hendricks possessions back into the box and replaced it on the shelf.  Clutching the last photograph of them together at Christmas Q crawled under the duvet and succumbed to restless sleep.  
  
Bond walked the streets for hours letting his anger burn itself out to be replaced by shame and self-loathing.  Q was right about him. His actions had proved that he had no idea how to show his love for someone he genuinely cared deeply for.  Q had used him to prove his point, that Bond was an arrogant self-centred bastard who took but had no idea how to give or share.

The realisation was not a comfortable one.

  
  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Grief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118709) by [Dassandre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/Dassandre)




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